


Forever

by Drapetomania



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pocahontas (1995) Fusion, Angst, M/M, Separations, mention of kate, stiles gets hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:39:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8497558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drapetomania/pseuds/Drapetomania
Summary: Just a little Pocahontas AU I once wrote, inspired by Emma <3





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emela/gifts).



Time slows down when Stiles jumps forward. Derek can’t remember his limbs ever having felt so heavy, like his veins were full of lead. He can’t move fast enough for once, only watch. It feels as if his heart explodes a thousand times in his chest from the point during which the bullet is halfway till it hits Stiles’ chest with a thud that makes his own ribs clench so tightly he can’t breathe and then expand violently enough to spread the pain throughout his body.

  
The last thing he had expected when Kate had lead her people out to attack was Stiles - human Stiles; not weak or defenseless in any way but human, mortal and undeniably vulnerable Stiles - protecting the alpha - a powerful werewolf with healing powers - from a simple bullet, and it shows in the way he let’s out a strangled whine, the reaction to primal to be near words. Derek is speechless, as breathless as his every nerve is full of panic, while Stiles falls. The boy doesn’t so much as grunt as he crumbles to the ground.

  
A burst of adrenaline has Derek closing the distance to catch Stiles’ upper body before it crashes. He lowers him gently to cradle his head in his lap.

  
“Stiles,” he whimpers into the surrounding silence, currently unable to find any other words. Derek’s nostrils flare as the scent of blood starts to fill the air and his gaze flickers widely along the other’s torso to find the wound. Stiles raises a hand to cover the blossom of red on his shirt and Derek feels the full body shiver. The human tries to suppress any indication of pain but his breathing is labored and Derek can see the clenched jaw through the smile.

  
“I-I’m fine,” Stiles gasps more than says, his voice so obviously layered with pain. Derek’s face is pinched in anger and he could yell at everyone here, but mostly Stiles for being so so stupid. He doesn’t hesitate to place a hand over the human’s on top of the wound and take his pain. Hissing, Stiles closes his eyes for a moment before finally taking a proper deep breath.

  
There’s something finally happening around them, after what seems like an eternity had passed, but as much as Derek wanted to take part in tearing Kate apart for everything she had done to them in the past weeks, Stiles is hurt and that’s all that’s on Derek’s mind. He doesn’t know much about these weapons. As much as he had learned about the humans, the weapons had never been part of his interests. However, he did know from Stiles that these guns usually result in death and Stiles- he can't… he isn’t allowed to die. If Stiles died- god, he would go insane. It would be all his fault. If he would have just reacted faster… if he had protected his alpha like it was his job to do, not Stiles… if Stiles just would have stayed put… why had he even- what had possessed him to go through with such a mindless martyr-

  
“Wolfsbane,” Stiles breathes because he can apparently read Derek’s mind, just by looking into his eyes. Derek continues to stare at him in frustration, his confusion only growing.

  
“The bullet,” Stiles explains. “It was soaked in wolfsbane… it would’ve killed you.” His gaze shifts over to Talia, who gives him a subtle nod, recognizing his move as the first step to a peaceful solution to the conflict between the travelling humans and the native werewolf pack. There’s still a scuffle around the pair, including some yelling - Peter’s voice gets especially loud - but Derek almost doesn’t care because Stiles.

  
“Stiles, it will kill you!” He exclaims, desperation leaking into his tone. Why was there nothing he could do? Why couldn’t he rewind time? Why couldn’t he heal Stiles? Why couldn’t things just be okay?

  
Stiles is steadily growing limper in Derek’s arms. Despite the boy’s attempts to conceal the toll the shot was taking, he can see the way his bottom lip quivers when he licks over it, the way his eyes start to droop and the sweat starts to bead on his forehead. The blood is still running through their fingers, contrasting against the thick black veins running up Derek’s arm, and he has to press harder when Stiles involuntarily lessens the pressure - and fuck, this is not the way Derek had wanted to hold hands.

  
“I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’m good,” Stiles tries to assure him but there’s a light slur to his words and Derek can’t tell if his unsteady heartbeat is due to a lie or his weakening body. He growls in reply, causing Stiles to smile fondly. The human reaches up to rest a hand on Derek’s cheek, fingertips scratching over the stubble like they’d done a few times before when they’d met in secret out by the waterfall, on the river and at the vast willow tree, hidden from anyone’s sight behind the branches that hung straight down to the ground.

  
“It was the only way,” Stiles continues, keeping Derek’s head still so he could hold his gaze steadily. “There can’t be a war. We can’t let that happen. This was the only way. Talia lives and there’s no further motive for violence. If we want to be together, live together, we need peace between our species.” He can feel Derek grinding his teeth under his touch before he sighs in understanding.

  
“But why did it have to be you,” Derek whispers quietly, leaning down to kiss his forehead gently, to which Stiles closes his eyes, his smile widening as warmth and affection spread through him. It makes sense that it happened to be Stiles. It really does. He is a hero in every sense of the word. Derek had never met someone so selfless with such a willpower and goodness inside him, nonetheless loyal to a fault - even with all the admiration that he has for his pack. Stiles is something more and Derek has faith that he will achieve unity in this world. He knows that his story will be told for centuries to come.

  
“I will be okay. I promise,” he hears him say and this time his heartbeat doesn’t stutter. Derek almost sobs in relief and let’s himself believe those words.

  
***

  
Within the next 24 hours Kate had been detained and the humans had prepared their ship for the journey back home. They are starting to board when Talia, Peter and a few other werewolves arrive to see them off. Derek hadn’t left Stiles’ side in all that time, despite Stiles having slept through most of it. He tries hard not to think about the fact that the love of his life was leaving, probably forever. It doesn’t work. His heart aches and it’s a pain Derek has never felt before, not even when he’d slipped and fallen from a considerable height while climbing the waterfall, bones shattering from the impact on stone.

  
He is sure by now that Stiles is what the wolves referred to as mates - a connection deeper than any words could ever explain, a bond between souls that found each other in the right time and place in the vast space of the universe, the deepest sense of home and belonging. Derek will probably never love again, and even if he did, it would be nothing close to this. The only reason why he can convince himself to let Stiles go is because it will save his life. There are healers on the other side of the ocean and he just has to survive the trip and then they can heal him.

  
It also assures the survival of both species. They had met too early, not ready yet to get accustomed to a joined life. One day the day will come when werewolves and humans can live hand in hand. One day the world will catch up to what Stiles and Derek already have. Until then they both have to stand by their people. Derek has to be there for his pack. He is their future leader, and he hopes that he will have the luck to see the day they rejoin with the humans. He hopes Stiles is there as well.

  
Derek walks up to ship at Stiles’ side, holding his hand as he is carried on a cot. All necessary things had already been said and yet there’s so much that has been left unsaid. Cora pops up next to Derek, passing him the bark he had asked her to retrieve.

  
“Here. It’s from Grandmother Willow’s bark. It’ll help with the pain,” he says as he replaces his hand with the wood, wrapping Stiles’ fingers around it but not yet letting go.

  
“What pain? I’ve had worse pain than this. Can’t think of any right now, but…” Stiles jokes, attempting to flash his trademark grin. Derek can see the sadness in his eyes but he tries to ignore it so it doesn’t kill the smile he is trying to hold up. With Stiles being so strong, he owes it to him to be strong as well. We’ll see each other again, he tells himself because it’s the only consolation that brings any kind of peace to him.

“You are always welcome among our people. Thank you, my brother,” Talia speaks up into the silence, placing a hand on Stiles’ arm shortly and Derek almost wants to ask him to just stay. He knows Stiles could easily keep up with werewolves. He is special. He is his mate.

  
Stiles beams at Talia with the strength that he has left and thanks her profoundly before he turns to Derek again. His hand reaches out and Derek doesn’t hesitate to lean in and make it easier for the fingers to brush this his hair and the scruff along his jaw one more time. He hears Stiles’ resolve crumble in the breath he takes and his heart skips a beat before the male even says the words.

  
“Come with me.”

  
Derek has to take a moment to close his eyes and swallow heavily so he doesn’t mindlessly agree.

  
“I’m needed here,” he replies, his voice raw with emotion, with regret because he can’t say yes. He has to follow in his mother’s footsteps and take care of his pack. He can’t survive without his pack - even with Stiles. His place is here.

  
“Then I’ll stay with you,” Stiles counters and it’s the first time Derek hears him sound vulnerable and small, desperate. He hates denying Stiles anything; he wants to give him the whole world.

  
“No, you have to go back,” he says with a shake of his head. Stay strong, he tells himself as he nuzzles the hand that is still on his cheek and turns to kiss the knuckles.

  
“But I can’t leave you,” Stiles pleads. Neither of them care about the group of people around them. None of them exist in this moment, their moment.

  
“You never will. No matter what happens, I’ll always be with you…” Derek tells him. He takes Stiles’ hand and places their joined ones on the other’s chest, right where he can feel Stiles’ heart beating, a bit slower than usual but no less determined. There are tears in the human’s eyes and it’s all Derek can do to keep his own from watering. His throat is so constricted at this point that he can’t say another word.

  
“…Forever,” Stiles says in addition, giving him a smile that is so full of love it doesn’t leave room for sadness. He doesn’t know how long they stand there looking at each other before Stiles is carried off and Derek’s hand falls back to his side, empty.

  
As the crew screams orders and the ship sets sail the wolves watch silently. It’s a simple impulse that jerks Derek out of his trance-like state. He doesn’t even know how he ends up on all fours - on paws - and he isn’t phased by his first full shift in the least. He just runs as fast as his legs can carry him, his body compressing and stretching rhythmically, bounding over logs and climbing the hill as he races the ship on its way out of the cove. Weaving his way between the trees, always with an eye on the weathered white sails to his left, it almost feels like he can keep pace and run forever; as if he can be with Stiles just a little while longer.

  
The cliff rises up in front of him way too soon and he runs as far as he dares, skidding to a stop at the very edge. His legs tremble as he shifts back to his human form and he pants heavily though it doesn’t ease the knot in his chest. Stiles can’t even see his forlorn gaze from where they had situated him in a cabin and Derek doesn’t know what to do with the excess energy that he would’ve spent on chasing after the ship. With every foot that it drifts through the water, the pressure in him grows and the only way he knows how to release it is to tip his head back and howl.

  
The sound starts out thin and then swells until his lungs burn and the blood is rushing in his ears. With the bursts of wind that ruffle his hair he knows the howl will carry for miles and he wants it to accompany Stiles for every mile that he can’t. Just as he is running out of breath and his song swells to a lower tone again he hears the rest of his pack joining in, each with their own tone, their own hopes and good luck wishes. It makes the separation a little easier, gives Derek hope that Stiles will actually find his way back one day.

  
Taking a deep breath Derek howls again loudly and lets the wind carry his message across the water. Even though Stiles can’t actually understand, he knows that he will decipher the meaning.

  
We’ll see each other again.

  
***

  
Derek grows into his role as Alpha when Talia passes down the position. Laura is his right hand, assisting him in all matters necessary. The pack is doing well and prospers again after the difficulties with the humans. Their scents fade from the forest and most of their leftovers lose themselves to nature. It is almost as if they were never there, except that Derek lets no one forget. He makes sure that the knowledge about those mysterious creatures on the other side of the ocean doesn’t dissipate. He tells them everything Stiles had told him to make sure they can be prepared whenever they meet again.

  
There are times where Derek considers organizing their own exploration to the other land. He makes plans deep into the night and talks to Laura about his ideas. He would easily sniff out Stiles’ scent even amongst a thousand strangers, he is sure of that. But he also knows full well that the chances of finding the exact spot where Stiles resided are one in a million. He stops proposing the idea but he never thinks about it. He learns to live with the gaping emptiness in his chest. It’s like he still has the bullet that shot Stiles years ago lodged between his ribs.

  
He thinks he hears Stiles’ laugh when he paddles down the stream, somewhere between the bubbling water and the chattering beavers. He sees Stiles’ eyes in the shining amber stones that his niece collects and gives him. There’s a bit of Stiles in everything and everyone, he thinks, when he experiences one of the pups taking the blame for his younger brother, loyal to a fault. When the moon doesn’t shine too bright and instead the stars come out in full glory Derek remembers the moles that dotted Stiles’ skin and wishes that when he reaches out he could trace them. In nights like these he howls again, about love and loss, to his mate somewhere far far away and he wonders if maybe, possibly somewhere out there Stiles can hear him.

  
The others worry about him sometimes, because he cannot find anyone else to be with, because he refuses to try, but Derek is happy, for the most part, and he does his job well. And so they carry on.

  
Grey starts to speckle Derek’s beard and he has given up on looking out to the ocean every other day by the time the day comes. He is sitting nearby one of the older pups who teaching the younger ones to hunt, carving small wooden figurines when he picks up a sound in the distance. Despite having grown into a calm and collected adult, his heartbeat starts tripping over itself and his mind feels overrun with thoughts and stupified at the same time. A howl is carried over from the east, off tune and unbalanced like a pups even though it stems from a deeper tone. Derek knows instantly who it is and he doesn’t bother to put his tools down before he’s once again running.

  
It’s just like back then, the adrenaline carrying his body over the ground with the grace of a wolf have his age. He feels young again, feels as if Stiles has only just left yesterday, and he’s back- dear god, he’s back.

  
Derek doesn’t even take the time to howl back, too lost in his excitement, only focused on his chase to Stiles. The scent hits him before the sight and he pushes himself even faster. It’s amusing to say the least, watching Stiles struggle to run the last few feet to the shore, splashing up water and stumbling in the sand, but Derek is no less ridiculous. He makes no halt before the water, grinning just as widely as the human, who while having aged still somehow looks exactly like Derek remembers him. Derek doesn’t slow down before Stiles in his arms and the impact of the two moving bodies is in no way soft. The momentum has them flying into the water but there it is, Stiles’ bright and loud laughter. The human’s hands grip onto Derek as tightly as Derek wraps his arms around his waist.

  
It’s surreal and at the same time completely real because Derek’s nose is buried against his neck, full of the scent of Stiles, of the scent of home and this is Stiles, warm against him, warm and shaking with laughter, radiating happiness. It’s Stiles grabbing Derek’s head and gently forcing his gaze up, up to shining brown eyes and those quirked pink lips. His fingers drag through his beard in a familiar fashion and Derek’s breath shudders out of him.

  
“I’m back, sourwolf,” the human whispers, sounding as emotional as Derek felt.

  
“Forever,” is the only word Derek’s overwhelmed system has left him to say before they’re leaning into a kiss, an urgent and much needed press of lips, intimate albeit short and chaste.

  
“Forever,” Stiles confirms and seals the promise with another kiss.


End file.
